Check. Next?

I graduated from college on Saturday. Hurray! Now I'm legit in the professional workforce or somesuch thing and it only took me 13 years and a shitload of money from the time I began!

Seriously though, I'm excited and thrilled to be done. It's awesome to finally put a degree on my resumé and table the conversation where education is concerned (um, for now...hehe) so I can figure out how to be a parent who is present instead of a parent who is constantly stressing over when and how to write the next paper. No longer an issue.

Graduation was interesting. Most of my class wasn't there since not all of them had completed degree requirements, but one person was there and I was super honored to get to sit next to her: Skeleton Face. She complained about everything. So did I, but that's beside the point since I rarely complain about anything unless I'm safely within the private confines of the blogosphere. But Skeleton Face, she complains willy-nilly-- about the temperature in the classroom, posting homework online, homework concepts themselves, the books used in class, having to stay in class past a certain point in the evening, the director of the program whom she's never met-- you get the idea. So, true to form, Skeleton Face complained about our graduation gowns, getting the funny cap to stay on her head, why she wasn't wearing a Magna Cum Laude stole, how she couldn't understand the speaker, why it was taking so long, and how air horns shouldn't be allowed at graduation and that people should be searched before entering the auditorium. I, in turn, complained about the audience screaming out people's names during what was obviously Quiet Time after the ceremony began, and also about Skeleton Face herself to the Hubs via text. He responded by sending me screenshots of Skeletor from He-Man. TRUE LOVE, people.

As I walked across the stage, the Hubs and the In-Laws and the Pops screamed their heads off and it was humbling and pleasing and kind of cute. I heard some hollering behind me too-- turns out two friends of ours who play professional brass were playing at this graduation, which was a nice surprise. I'd forgotten the name of their quintet and they'd forgotten I transferred to this school. It was probably the most raucous graduation I've ever attended, high school included. The shouting, catcalls, air horns, and general tomfoolery was second to none. I eventually got over my preconceived notion of how this should be a solemn event and just laughed at it, but Skeleton Face insisted on whispering to me at every opportunity how mortified she was. Personally, the only truly disappointing part was that I'd planned a little surprise for the Hubs and he didn't get to see it, which was sad considering the minor embarrassment I endured to get it done.

I'd picked up my cap and gown at the school on Wednesday last week. One of the things advertised in my bazillion graduation emails was the capability to record a video message of thanks for anyone you wanted, and it would be played in the auditorium before graduation began. I thought it'd be cute to record one for the Hubs for putting up with my five changes of major over 13 years of part-time schooling. I didn't tell him about it-- I just wanted him to suddenly see it and be surprised and maybe feel like all the times I  was forced to quash libidinous overtures in order to finish a paper on which I'd procrastinated for far too long were worth the trouble. So after I picked up my stuff, I asked where to record a shout-out. The lady pointed me in a general direction and I saw a group of students clustered around a table looking animated and video-worthy. I went over there and put down my things, grinned at all of them when they looked at me, and stood there with arms crossed over my giant stomach, waiting expectantly.

Time passed.

(The better part of a minute, maybe.)

I looked at them and they looked at me and I looked at them and they looked at me with odd expressions, and I just smiled and waited in line for them to finish their sh......wait. Wait just a tick. There is no line here. I looked at the table. Standard student stuff: backpacks, laptops, notebooks, pens. No video-recording equipment in sight. Come to think of it, wouldn't there be a background or at least a microphone or something? I cleared my throat.

"Hey uh, are you guys recording shout-outs here, or am I just standing here being creepy?"

A boy scowled at me and replied, "You're just standing there being creepy."

I burst out laughing. They all stared, not in the least bit amused.

"Right! Okay, so do you know where that's taking place?" He pointed to a room directly beyond them WITH A FREAKING SIGN ON IT. I thanked him, picked up my things and left, chuckling all the while. I looked back as I got to the door and they were still staring. And they were still not laughing. PEOPLE. How is that not funny?? Not to mention, my degree is in Investigations and I'm basically counted upon to be more observant than the average bear but I didn't notice there wasn't any recording equipment or the sign on the door just past this group of students. Uh, you don't want me to investigate your murder or child abduction case, apparently.

So after all that, I snorted and smirked my way through recording the message and the Hubs didn't even see it that day because they played it five minutes after opening the doors to the auditorium. Fail. Luckily, it's archived online so I captured it for him as a mini-surprise. But no, you can't see it because then you'd know who I am and then I'd have to kill you. Watching my awkwardness was practically painful, and I was reminded of why I consciously pitch my voice higher when I'm on the phone-- homegirl sounds like a nasally boy.

But you know what? This nasally boy is done with school now. So I'm going to go read a book now. A fiction one!!